nine | warsawfamous Varsovians include scientist Marie Curie, who was the first woman to win a nobel prize and the first person to ever win two of them, and the prolific composer and pianist Frédéric Chopin
JAKE
May 6th, 21:33 (GMT +2)
9 days until it happensWHY ARE THE bad guys always Russian?
Rayna and I raise our hands slowly in surrender as the FSB agent trains her revolver at our heads. "Kto vy?"
I run a quick risk-benefit-analysis of telling the truth. She could be working for Pavel, colluding with the mob. But the Russian government and the Russian mafia haven't always seen eye-to-eye historically. And if she was on their side, why would she be undercover disguised as a kitchen-hand?
Low, so as to not be overheard, "Jake Morgan, MI6."
"Rayna Shahid, Canadian Security Intelligence Service." Her voice rustles, breathless from our tousle.
Slowly, the woman decocks and lowers her weapon. Relief loosens my shoulders.
She lifts an eyebrow at me. "Ty ne bez soznaniya." You're not unconscious.
I trade a confused look with Rayna before it suddenly occurs to me. The house has gone silent.
"He didn't eat the food," Rayna says in Russian. Ah.
The woman's English is poorer than Pavel's. "Chto vy zdes' delayete? Vhat you doing here?"
"We're–" Rayna begins at the same moment I reply, "I'm—"
She cuts herself off, recognizing her mistake. There is no we.
"–looking for the missing girl. Cassidy Dalton."
The FSB agent looks at us like we're both incomprehensibly daft. "She is not here."
"Yes," Rayna agrees. She puts on her most tactful Canadian smile. "I'm hoping to get some information from Sidorov to help me find her."
The cook, whatever her name is, narrows her eyes. "Zat vill be difficult," she comments. "Because I am about to kill him."
Oh, bugger.
"Look, I get it." Rayna flashes her a sweet simper, all sunshine and rainbows and shit, but the woman's severe expression doesn't budge. "But is there any way you can let me interrogate him first? Just for ten minutes. Then he's all yours."
I am certain she'll say no. Rayna is young and stunning, and women can be cats to each other about that sort of thing – I've seen it with my sisters.
"Niet. Russia does not cooperate vis Vestern governments." In Russian, she tells us, "Leave before I have to kill you, too."
As lovely as that proposition sounds... "I have a counterproposal–"
Clunking footsteps approach from behind me. The cook raises her gun again.
Sidorov straggles towards us from the drawing room. His face is redder than a tomato, shiny and moist with sweat. He huffs and puffs, lumbering forward slowly.
The Russian agent murmurs something unsavoury under her breath. I catch the words impossible and poison and Rasputin. She pulls the hammer of her gun once more, but then clomping footfall marches nearer from another part of the house, and she swivels away from Sidorov to protect her back from the newcomers. My hand reaches for my Glock.
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Romance[ON HIATUS] Guns. Sex. Blood. Two enemy secret agents try outsmarting each other on their dangerous global adventures... but when sparks fly, both their missions could go up in flames. *** A spo...